He Wasn't Expecting That
by Rubies and Diamonds
Summary: "It's probably not every day you get thirty-three year olds confessing past love for your mother. Circe, if anyone had said that to me back in my Hogwarts career I think I might have passed out. Respect to you, mate, for staying conscious."


**A/N: **I think this is my lowest point so far.

**Disclaimer: **Seriously I would claim this as JKR but I think she'd be offended. (Still, JKR owns. Still, I don't.)

* * *

You didn't know what he was expecting when he walked into Professor Lupin's office. You were just there to ask about the essay the third years were due – but instead found him, and three other men all crowded into the small, stuffy room, laughing and joking and playing some sort of card game.

They all look to be around the same age as him, and all equally as handsome as the other.

The man sat closest to Lupin, the man you identified to have the loudest and most bark-like laugh, (also the one to probably be the most handsome of the group), has chin length, glossy black hair, and grey eyes, sparking with mirth. He sat with an air of elegance, which you find amusing, for his obvious snorts of laughter and the way he downed his shots in quick succession did not exactly exude a feeling of grace.

The man on the other side of him was a blond, to describe the color in its most vague form. It was more of a dusty blond, almost grey under the candlelight, and worn in a thick mop atop his round head, a fringe sweeping across his pale forehead.

The last man, the one sat opposite the DADA teacher, has thick, square frames, concealing hazel eyes under their magnified glass. His hair was an unruly mess, not unlike your own, and he constantly ran his hand through the dark tresses as he thought over what card to play.

You feel as though you've intruded in upon something that's private, something you're not to see.

You clear your throat, anyway.

Lupin is the first to turn and acknowledge you. "Oh, come in, come in," he says, waving you forward. You do as told, partly because you'd do anything Professor Lupin said, and partly because you're entirely intrigued by this group of unjustly good-looking men.

"Sorry, Prof –" you begin, but you get cut short by the man with the bark-like laugh. His voice is deep, and masculine, with a hint of laughter embedded into it. You don't think that laughter ever leaves his tone.

"What's this?" he asks, not directing the question at you, but at the professor.

"_This_, Padfoot, is what we call a _student_. We used to be students. Do you remember that?" Your teacher says the man known as 'Padfoot' in a condescending and patronizing tone, but clear it was purely for joking.

"Bugger off, Moony. What's it doing here? We're playing poker!" You cant find it in you to be offended at being referred to as 'it', just from the pure exhilaration you feel at finding something out about the admittedly handsome (who are you kidding, pure sex god) professor.

"Yes, what are you doing here?" Lupin asks, raising a brow at you.

"Just asking about that essay due – do we have to _list_ –"

"Moony, your students are swots, just like you were!" you're liking the handsome man less and less.

"Shut up, Padfoot, you'll make the kid shit themselves," the man on Lupin's left said, the blond-but-not-quite-blond.

"Ah, Wormtail, kids shit themselves when they see your face."

"Leave the poor bugger alone, the lot of you," said the bespectacled man tiredly, looking up at you and shrugging as if to say '_Mates, eh_?"

"Thank you, Prongs. And no, you don't so much as have to _list_ the effects, you could always paragraph them together, and label the problems and bonuses –"

"Don't get him started or he'll never bloody shut up!" Padfoot yelled, throwing his arms up in a dramatic fashion before resting his head on the edge of the wooden table.

"Merlin, Padfoot, I am going to hit you _so hard_…"

"It's fine, sir," you say. "I'll come back later. Thanks."

"No, no no," he calls after you as you turn to leave. "Please ignore my prattish mates. Now, as I was saying, if you could label the –"

"Do I know you?" the one called Prongs asks, looking at you in the oddest way, tilting his head as if to see you better.

"No…?" you say, making it a question. You've never once before seen this man, but you decide to indulge him.

"Ah, yeah, Prongs – " Lupin begins, but is cut off once again.

"No, I'm sure I've seen you before. It's the eyes. Eyes. Where have I seen you?"

"Proooongs," Lupin tries again, his tone heavy, the subtext clearly saying '_shut up now!'_

"Bloody hell, I _must _have seen you before –"

"JAMES." Lupin near shouts, eyes wide and staring at him.

"I've seen him before!" he insisted.

"No, you haven't."

"I have! It's the eyes –"

"No, you've never seen this student before."

"Well then why –"

"You know their mother."

"Mother? Mo – Oh." He said, a look of realization dawning across his face. "_Oh_."

"Y'okay, mate?" Padfoot asked, seeming to put two and two together. If only you knew what those two and two _were_.

"I'm confused!" Wormtail whined, looking to all three for guidance.

"Their mum's… y'know…"

"Lily Evans," James-also-known-as-Prongs-sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, this is entirely awkward. Hello, little kid," he said, a smile you're not sure is fake or not at his lips, his hand stuck out for you to shake. "I used to be entirely in love with your dear mum."

Your eyes fly open in shock, and your body turns as stiff as a board.

"Er, Worms, use your powers! Make him shit himself!" Padfoot said urgently, flapping a hand around limply as if that would make his friend use his 'powers' quicker.

"You… You _what_?" you stutter out, trying to get your head around it. Yes, they look to be the same age, and yeah, they probably went to school together – and you know mum was friends with Lupin, for he's been around for dinner on more than one occasion – but the whole _absurdity_ of it all…

"Sorry," the man who just confessed his past love for the woman who gave birth to you apologized. "It's probably not every day you get thirty-three year olds confessing past love for your mother. Circe, if anyone had said that to me back in my Hogwarts career I think I might have passed out. Respect to you, mate, for staying conscious."

"You _what?" _you spit out again.

"Prongs, you fried his brain."

"Shit, I didn't, did I?"

"How?" you ask, making an effort to prove that no, James did not fry your brain.

"Well, not to be insensitive or to make you want to vomit more than you already feel like doing – have you _seen _your mother?"

"Professor Lupin I think I'm going to leave now," you say quickly, wanting to convince yourself this is a strange and ultimately terrifying nightmare/obliviate yourself so you _do _have a fried nervous system.

"Sorry!" James called once more as you ran from the room.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I feel emotionally scarring Harry with things that will never, ever happen is things I should be writing about.


End file.
